The Chill
by Kianang
Summary: The chill passes from living to dead... to dead... to living... in the form of a soft winter breeze, drifting through icicles with the grace of an angel's voice. Ep 33 spoilers.


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Author's Notes: Um. This makes no sense to me at all.

If you want an explanation, all you need to know is that I wrote this while running a fever. I know what I meant with it, but my feverish writing didn't leave enough room for editing without redoing the entire thing. So I'm posting it. Let's, um, call it an "artistic experiment" and leave it at that. *crazed laugh* Oh, and this disregards the novels and the Eikoden OAV. The premise is a cliché. Though I doubt it's obvious since I was kind of, um, crazed at the time.

Don't write fiction while running a temperature. I apologize in advance for the lack of coherency in this. ^_^;;;

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Disclaimer: Um. If you want to sue ME, you're going after the wrong ficcer. I say sue one of the skilled ones. Regardless, I don't own FY, and I don't think I remembered to put a disc on my two previous fics. OOPS. Eh-heh... heh...

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The Chill

The chill passed through her, rippling her spine, aching her shoulders, shivering in cold waves through her fingertips. She averted her eyes from the glorious stars, clear from a beautiful winter night. The crystal air raked her back, causing her to flinch heavily. She swayed, the shadows of stars dancing in the backs of her eyes like malicious diamonds. The world swam, she drowned. The sky longed to swallow her up.

A pair of strong arms encircled her, steadying her. She leant against her lover's chest, and cracked open her eyes, staring at her sleeve. Light blue, the delicate blue of a lonesome morning, blending into the sharp, icy blue of a cold winter's sky.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you, Heika." She gently loosened herself from his arms.

He took her hand. "You're so cold, are you certain...?" He drew one of her pale hands to his cheek... so warm.

She smiled. "Yes. It was just the wind..."

His arms enveloped her once more. So warm...

.

Nuriko was drowning in light. He was flying, floating, drifting. The world was filled with snow, cold and brilliant, glaring in his eyes and freezing against his fingers. He fought to hold a hand out against the light, and was seized by a horrible chill. The snow clumped around him and clung to his lips, his hair. Every breath was flooded with white brilliance, his eyelashes sent snowy butterflies fluttering after landing on his pale, pale face. Ice was filling him. He couldn't breathe... ice crystals crackled on his cheeks... his nail beds blued...

His eyes flashed open.

Dark.

The world was dark. And close. The midnight sky was brushing against his nose... dark black with faint blue undertones and small sparkles of light and hints of life.

He heard a voice... Kourin's voice... somewhere beyond the stars...

.

The chill hit her sharply. She fell, her knees buckling. Her arms went out searching for something to grab onto for balance, only finding a vase and taking it down with her. Shards of the delicate vase mingled with her fingers, littering the ground. Her fingers, so small, so porcelain pale, and trembling, almost seemed to be one of the shards of vibrating porcelain, skating across the floor like tiny white dancers.

She barely noticed when an attendant came running, calling for her.

She only noticed the small shards of vase, dancing and twirling on the floor... she touched one absently... they were so cold...

.

Gently, his fingers tore at the sky. Small fragments of softness fell upon his cheeks, glittered on his nose... slush gathered around his fingers...

And he arose.

.

The palace doctor smoothed away at her brow. Cooling rags pressed, easing away the ache in her forehead. She shivered from the chill.

The chill trembled her fingers. Her lover seized them, gently, warmly. He was so warm. She was warmer.

.

Kourin's voice faded into gentle birdsong. Snow gathered and fell around his arms and legs, clinging to his pants, building soft patterns of lace on his jacket.

He stood shakily, his legs weak. He looked down at his hands... they were laced with faint blue, his veins embroidered onto his skin with the finest blue silk with the most delicate of hands... forming small spikes and gradients and splotch-like flowers... his nails were blue, just as in the dream... the snow... 

He looked up. The sky was no longer midnight, no longer close. The clouds drifted in a sea of dreamy, sleepy blue, early morning rays of the sun glinting off the snow. The world was sleepy, the world was young. The birds seemed to cry, "Nii-san, Nii-san."

His nails were the same dreamy blue as the sky, sewn on like sweet, periwinkle buttons. His fingers rose to meet his cheeks... ice cold... he shivered... he felt as though he were made of a thousand ice crystals... sharp and beautiful... he wondered if he held his hand up to the light if a rainbow would form...

.

"I've been having nightmares," she murmured.

"Nightmares?"

"Cold... very cold... frost covering my body..."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I feel crisp... like I might shatter..."

.

He was flying, floating, drifting. The first face he found was sad and alone. Empty. Empty hazel eyes, straggling auburn hair. He touched her cheek gently, icy fingertips grazing her jaw line. The chill took her. She shuddered. And looked right at him.

Through him.

Like a window... a beautiful stained glass window... framed in flowers... and starlight and sunshine...

Yet she seemed empty. He could not delve into her eyes. She would not see him. Or hear him. The touch of his platinum fingertips along her cheek send visible shudders through her form. One stroke of her hair brought a sudden flinch, a lurch.

He was invisible.

He averted his eyes. The ice in his lips crackled. "I loved you once." His voice was broken and soft, the soft chiming of the wind through delicate hanging icicles.

She turned her head. He moved with her and swept a loose curl of hair from her face.

The kiss, the gentle brush of ice, drew a gasp from her. Her wintry puff of breath danced through the air in small swirly clouds.

.

"I... I..."

The chill seized her.

The sky so blue.

The air so cold.

Snow?

Blood?

The chill rippled down her spine.

.

The kiss faded away. The world faded away.

He stared off into the darkness.

It swelled and encroached. Deep and enveloping like sadness, and fear, and anger.

It swirled around his fingers, drowning away the delicate porcelain.

Kourin's voice entered his ears with one wisp of darkness, murmuring, murmuring...

"Love again... love again..."

.

Blood... so warm... so unlike the chill. She glanced down at her side. Instead of crimson nothingness she found his hand, seeking to calm her. He was so warm...

The sun shone... even indoors... it blinded her eyes.

And frost wound its way under her nails. Her lips crackled.

And gently, a tear wound its way down her cheek.

"I... don't know..."

Her lower lip trembled.

The chill seized her. She spazmed, clutching at her chest.

Her lover's hands met hers, soothing and warm... His amber eyes were so full of worry, fear, concern...

All along her back her muscles relaxed, eased, loosened... she leaned back against her pillows sleepily...

"Hotohori-sama, I died, didn't I...?"


End file.
